


Pop pOp PoP

by trinsghost



Category: IT, IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Pennywise - Fandom, Pennywise the Clown - Fandom
Genre: Adult Situations, F/M, close encounter turns consensual, mild dubcon, pennywise au, popcorn appreciation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinsghost/pseuds/trinsghost
Summary: You are Bill's younger sister.  When you and the adult Losers Club meet up in Derry, a certain someone shows up, making himself known to you.  What is your takeaway from learning about It/him?  You'll just have to read and see.





	1. Chapter 1

Pop pOp PoP

(Pennywise has an interesting appreciation for popcorn.)

Who am I? I’m Bill Denbrough’s sister. His younger sister, having just turned 23. Dad remarried a few years after he and my step-mom split up, after my brother Georgie disappeared. (He never told me what really happened to Georgie. I always wondered what he was like.) In any case, when Bill turned 40 I called him up, wishing him a happy birthday. He was glad to hear from me, cheerful as always, but when he mentioned he was going back to Derry to visit our parents and take care of some business, the way he spoke started to falter. I asked him if he wanted me to join him, and he stuttered out “n-n-no.” There was sadness and worry in his voice that I hadn’t heard before. 

Not wanting my brother in the doldrums for a trip back home, I decided to surprise him by flying out too. He wasn’t overjoyed at first to see me in town, but he resigned to my action when I was greeted warmly by my adopted aunt and uncles, who dubbed themselves The Losers Club back in the day. (Sadly, Uncle Stan didn’t fly out. I hope he’s alright.)

Fast forward a day, and we’re walking as a group around town, most of the Club reorienting themselves with nostalgic landmarks since everyone but Mike had left town in their teens or twenties.

A carnival was in full swing in Bassey Park, set up around each side of the Kissing Bridge. The bridge itself was utilized that day for a farmer’s market and the entrance to a side-show tent. I bought a vanilla and butterscotch swirl ice cream cone covered in sprinkles and bits of buttered popcorn (an old favorite), watching Bill and Aunt Beverly flirt like school kids, and Richie comment colorfully about every little thing, Eddie slapping his arm when he got too vulgar. Ben and Mike smiled and shrugged at the spectacle of their friends, diving into discussion about the town’s history and the going’s on within it for the past decade or so.

The sweet smell of cotton candy permeated the air, calliope music playing non-stop as rides whirled and twirled around us. Taking a deep breath, I gazed skyward, spinning in the grass near a woman blowing gigantic bubbles, slowing when I spotted a man staring rather intently at us from a hundred or so yards away.

He was tall, much taller than Dad or Bill, very pale, and was dressed in a tattered, white clown suit dotted with fuzzy orange pom poms down his chest. His hair was orange too, tufts of hair framing his head the color of mandarin shaved ice I used to have in the summer. Red and black markings lined his face, filling in the tip of his nose and lips. He gave all of us a toothy smile and a bow and stood there, the crowds traversing around him as if he wasn’t there.

“Bill? Who is that?” I asked, my ice cream beginning to drip down through the sprinkles and popcorn, trickling onto my fingers.

My brother furrowed his brows, his eyes glazing over with anger and tears he refused to shed. “It’s noone. Ignore him and he’ll g-go away,” he said.

“G-go away? I don’t think so. It’s been _**27 years**_ ,” the clown obviously heard, and hollered back. “I’ve k-kept my promise, B-b-bill. It’s _my time_ , now,” he grinned, giggling maniacally as a family walked around him, paying no mind.

“Who the _hell_ is he?” I asked, looking to the group around me. I’d known all of them for years as I grew up, hanging with them on occasional trips as a kid, or talking to them on Skype, appreciating Bill’s childhood friends who called me their ‘little sister from another mother’. But now, not one of them spoke up. They only moved closer around me. What’s gotten them so scared? They’re grown ass adults! What’s going on?!?

“Who the hell am I? The real question remains, who the hell are **you** , m’dear?” the clown asked pointedly, tilting his head. I scoffed, licking the drips of ice cream from my fingers, taking a piece of popcorn from the top into my mouth. I watched his eyes following my fingers, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Don’t say anything,” Bill begged/demanded, but I wasn’t about to be cowed by a douche in a clown suit trying to scare my family.

“I’m Bill’s sister, y/n. If you have some sort of beef with him or his friends, you’re gonna have to come through me,” I glared, feeling my bravery waver as the clown’s smile widened even more. Eddie and Richie pulled me back by the arms, shaking their heads no as I backed down.

To my alarm, I heard an echo of someone’s voice in my head say _“Well, if you insist,”_ and chuckle darkly. I shivered at those words, but shook off the feeling, chalking it up to this unexpected encounter.

“Bill Denbrough has a _little sister_ , does he?,” he cooed, half mockingly. “Answer me THIS Bill, did you tell her about me? Or Georgie? I could tell you so many stories about Georgie. OH, he loved to talk about the circus, and” the clown could’ve yammered on for a while, but Mike shut him down.

“Hey, you, clown! Pennywise! We’re not causing you ANY trouble. Get on out of here, now, while you still can,” Mike hollered, his hands balling into fists.

“You aren’t causing trouble now, but you will. I _know_ you will. And I’ll be waiting. See you all a little later,” he laughed, honing in on me with a feral grin. I looked behind to Bill, and his eyes grew wide with fright. Looking back behind me to see what spooked him, I turned, only to have a red balloon boop me in the face.

The balloon lowered, exploding with a pop of blood that fanned out around me. The group gathered closer, all worried looks on their faces, Mike and Ben chiming in that a meeting in the library this evening was a must.

I looked down at my shirt, seeing the blood had spattered into faint rings, making a bulls-eye on my shirt. I looked back up to where the clown stood, but he was nowhere to be seen.

========Early evening =======

The Losers Club headed out from our house on Witcham Street after we split a few pizzas. I asked to hang back home while they researched for a few hours. They hesitated with my request, but agreed when Mike lent me his bolt gun, showing me how to use it. He nearly freaked when I pointed it at the kitchen window, pretending to aim and fire, but I lowered it, smirking at him and asking “how dumb do you think I am.” Mike roughed my hair up a bit, patted me on the back and asked me to promise not to think too much about the day’s events, to not worry about it. 

Dad and Mom left for the evening, too. They headed out for a date night, which I thought was adorable. So I had the house to myself for a few hours on an evening slated for thunderstorms. Right, movies and popcorn it is.

The group had popped some a little earlier to munch on before dinner, but it had gone mushy from the toppings we put on it. I padded back into the kitchen in my pajama shorts and a tank top, slicing up and plopping a few tablespoons of butter into a mug to melt over a fresh batch of popcorn. After the butter melted, I slipped in the mega-sized package of kernels to be popped and set the microwave timer to start. Slipping a finger into the warmed butter, I sucked it off from my finger, eyeing the reflection on the front of the microwave. And that’s when time slowed to a crawl.

I saw a brief glimpse of a small child in a yellow rain jacket behind me. He giggled, turned and ran, dripping rain water on the floor behind him. Not knowing who he was or how he got there, I turned and jumped, juggling and dropping the mug of butter. As the mug broke and its contents spilt on the floor, a hand caught me by the neck in mid-turn, fingers long and white. 

It was the clown! (Pennywise, I remembered Mike call him by name.) He stared at me, blue eyes flickering yellow as he threw me to the kitchen floor. I landed on my back with a thud, breath nearly knocked out of me, but not enough to attempt a scream. He crouched over me, clamping a hand across my mouth. He looked to the microwave, a brow raised in curiosity. As soon as he heard a kernel pop, then two, he smirked, his red lips pulling into a wide smile. Removing his hand from my mouth, he chuckled, his raspy laugh sending goosebumps across my skin.

“I do love popcorn,” he sighed, his eyes almost rolling back into their sockets. “I should try it on ice cream sometime. How was it for you?” he asked, expecting me to reply. All I could do at the moment was vibrate with fear on the floor, and wish I had the bolt gun or my cell phone to call Bill.

“Wasn’t good?” he asked, pouting when I hadn’t answered. “Don’t you like popcorn?” he said, almost indignantly, as if I’d insulted him.

“I love popcorn,” I whispered, my voice shaking. 

“You dooo?” the clown replied excitedly. “Do you like it plain, or with toppings? Like...cinnamon and sugar, or Tabasco sauce, or melted cheese?” His crouched form moved over me, and I felt him pin my legs down at the knees with his backside.

“I like toppings, yeah. Butter’s my favorite though,” I nodded, blinking tears out of my eyes.

“Ooh, I like butter too. It tastes good,” he giggled, looking back at my legs as I grunted in pain.

“Yeah, it’s a classic topping, I guess. Butter and salt,” I trailed off, watching him look back at me, slipping the tip of his long fingers to his lips, pulling off one glove, then another.

Dipping down towards my face, he lingered inches away, and I smelt the rank stench of sewer water. The odor wafted away, the smell of yesterday’s circus treats taking its place.

“How much do you like buttered popcorn,” he smiled, eyes trailing over my face as he watched me, waiting for a response. My head snapped to the side though, seeing him reach for the broken mug of nearly emptied melted butter. He slipped a finger into the cooling liquid, lifting it to his lips. He sucked his finger gently, moaning at the taste. “That’s very good, from the local dairy. Slippery, too,” he smiled. My breath hitched as he dipped his finger again, biting his lip as he trailed his right hand down my arm, my side, toward the waistband of my shorts.

Just as I was about to plead for mercy, the clown eased his hand down the front of my shorts, slipping his long fingers into my underpants. His middle finger, warm and well buttered, ran across my folds, slipping between them with ease. He teased my tiny bud before slipping his finger in. I yelped, my cheeks burned and I tried to push him away, but his other hand grabbed for mine and before I could holler again, his lips crashed into mine, mouth opening in a deep kiss.

He worked his finger faster and faster inside me, pad rubbing over a sensitive spot as the pressure built, and I began bucking my hips against his palm. He slowed, pulling the slick digit from between my legs. Pulling back from the kiss, he rested his forehead on mine, and I watched wide-eyed as he fumbled with the buttons of his pants, his hands trembling as I watched a bulge lengthen under worn white fabric, his cock twitching beneath his fingers. 

The distinct ‘pop pop pop’ of the popcorn continued, pulling me from this quasi reality, if only for a moment. The clown grunted, alerting me to my present situation by yanking at my shorts, ripping them and my underwear off in one swift motion, tossing the tattered remnants to one side. 

He dropped down closer to me, eyes shining bright gold and yellow, bottom lip dripping a rivulet of drool. Gripping my thighs, he spread them to the point that I cried out in pain, then lifted my feet over his hips. Looking to waist level, he took his length one-handed, giving it a few long, thorough tugs. I could see the veins pulsing against his skin, a drip of silvery white cum dribbling from the tip of him. He looked up, watching me watching him, his grin getting wider and and teeth pointier as he lined himself up at my entrance.

Sinking into me slowly, he watched my expression change from terror to dazed lust, my eyes fluttering shut as he pressed to the hilt, his length and width stretching me beyond belief. He panted, hands sliding up and under my tank top, hands cupping and squeezing my breasts as he pulled out, then slammed back into me. The ferocity of the movement caught me off guard, and I cried out in half pain, half pleasure. The clown dipped down to kiss me again, his thrusts slow and deep, fingers running over the pebbled skin of my nipples. He pulled his mouth away and I surprised myself, chasing after another kiss, sucking his lower lip between my teeth. 

As the clown kissed back, his long tongue parrying with my own, our mutual thrusts sped up. As popcorn kernels continued popping, the thunderstorm echoed across the neighborhood, nearly drowning out the slickened sounds of our arousal squelching between us. I felt the wetness ooze and dribble down my backside to the floor.

His lips wandered to my neck, settling down to a juncture near my shoulder. I felt a distinct white hot pain as his teeth sank into me, and an overwhelming pool of pleasure began to tingle throughout my body, a stronger spark coalescing in my core. His hands slid down to my backside, cupping my ass as he slammed into me with all his might. Sliding his grip to my ankles, he pulled my legs higher up, pounding me so hard that I thought I saw stars shoot across the ceiling. My climax crashed and rolled through me, and as it did I groaned out his name, he following right after me. I felt him twitching as my core pulsated, his seed spilling into me as he let out a half moan, half growl.

Panting, covered in sweat, I looked to one side, seeing my unexpected lover settle his head on my shoulder. He placed a kiss to the side of my head, then to my mouth (slowly), before pulling himself out of me and standing upright. I watched him tidy himself up, bells jingling from somewhere within his clothing as he stretched and shook off some of his post-coital exuberance. 

I lay there for a moment, watching him gather himself, not knowing what to do at this point. He interrupted my glazed stare by crouching down, offering a hand up. Seeing a robe on a pile of laundry at the kitchen table, he handed it to me and I nodded my thanks in silence, slipping it on. I stood stock still as he tied the robe’s belt around me, nodding when he finished. I looked down and around the floor expecting a mess (butter, mug, sex) to clean up, but there was nothing. The mug sat next to the microwave, unbroken. Looking up and over to the open cellar door, I watched him walk toward the darkness. My shorts and underwear were clutched in one hand, while the other he was still very focused on. He sucked the middle finger of his right hand clean, his eyes rolling back as he relished the taste and the memory of what happened.

“I’ll see you later,” he purred, waggling his brows. “Maybe we can talk ice cream next time.” As soon as he disappeared and the cellar door closed, the microwave dinged, time returning to its normal pace.

I spun around to the microwave, nearly forgetting what had just happened. (But who am I kidding, that ache is going to last for days. I know exactly what happened.)

Pulling the popcorn out, I saw that it cooked fully, but the package was already torn half open. Dots of blood dribbled over several pieces, and a smiley face was drawn into the side of the package in swirls of blood and butter. I furrowed my brow, wincing and clasping my neck as I looked back over toward the cellar door.

“Huh. That kinky motherfucker.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are Bill Denbrough's younger sister. Having met up with him and his friends in Derry, you've run into an old acquaintance of his. After your first encounter with him, are you looking for a repeat, or to run?
> 
> (Thanks for the comments, kudos and bookmarks from everyone! I'm so pleased you all like the story so far. Take note that Chapter two got to be a bit long, so I chopped it into two chapters, and Chapter 3 will be up in a few days.)

With most people, no matter their age, they tend to avoid a repeat encounter if they find something frightens them. Unless it’s something benign, like learning how to ride a bicycle, drive a car, or jump off the high dive at the local pool. If the fear can be overcome or lessened somewhat, that’s what most people strive to accomplish.

I rolled this reasoning around in my head for three days, contemplating my encounter with the clown. I’m surprised it took that long to even come to a realization considering he DID scare me, but I guess that’s just who I am. I always weigh the pros and cons, and even after tallying up a long list and talking a little with Ben about Derry’s history (now understanding how Pennywise is likely involved in it), I still had an inkling, an I-can’t-believe-I’m-thinking-this...yearning to see him again.

Nearly three days passed before the soreness wore off (from everywhere), and the teeth marks on my neck faded into obscurity (and help from a little concealer powder). While I took it easy, Bill had the gang at our house, working from his old room and the backyard. I noticed their time back in town start chip away at their collective resolve. I’d asked them why it felt like walking on eggshells at this point, but none of them would say a thing. Later that morning is when Ben pulled me aside, giving me what he called the “50 thousand foot view” of what they were dealing with, though they hadn’t had a repeat performance of 1989 just yet. I could tell at that point, they didn’t want to pull me in any closer to the situation, for fear of being a new target. (Likewise, my friends. Likewise.)

With the heat of summer bearing down on us, I decided to bring out my parent’s old ice cream making machine. It’s one of those in a wooden, almost barrel-like covering, and it’s heavy as hell, but worth the trouble hauling out. Slipping into a lavender sundress, I’d marked off on my list that the ice cream ingredients were bought the night before during a food run. The toppings though, I’d have to get from the local ice cream shop, the Derry Scoop.

I headed in shortly after they opened during lunch, and marveled over the fact that they expanded to the space next door. Not just a walk up shop anymore, the Scoop had an ice cream parlor or malt shop to its name now, done up 1950’s style in red and white, with a bar and round red leather stools, and cute little tables for two set throughout the room. I said my hellos to the owners who were working the register and grill and sat down, aiming to get lunch and a few bottles of their famous sundae syrups.

After chowing down on a burger and nursing a huge root beer float, I put my order in for the syrups. I spun around on the stool I was seated on to take in the new digs, watching families, groups of teens and older couples enjoying lunch and a variety of cool treats, taking in their reflections on the mirrored wall opposite of me. As I panned the room I noticed two televisions on that were situated in the front corners above the windows, tuned in to a local children’s show. A couple kids were really into it, watching intently while they ate. A few of them moved together to one table to get a better view.

My server came over, noting it’d be a little longer before my syrups would be set (freshly made that morning), so I paid my bill and sat back, continuing to drink my float and people/tv watch. When I spun back around to put my drink down for a moment is when something seemed off. I turned back, noticing more kids were watching the kid’s show. The front corner of the shop was getting densely packed, oddly enough with children of varying ages, watching quietly. That is, until he arrived.

I don’t know when he set foot through the door, but there stood Pennywise, towering over all the seated patrons (and the standing ones, too). He was smiling like a cat who caught a whole cage of canaries. He had a handful of bobbing red balloons with him, and passed them out to the youngest boys and girls at random tables. They seemed eager to get them, though their parents barely even looked up to acknowledge the gift, or the clown who was pointedly looking for a response from the children.

Unaware as to whether the volume got turned up or my hearing merely honed in, I began clearly hearing the dialog of the kids show. It sounded like a running soundtrack to what was going on live, here. But how? I sat there, mildly on edge, as I heard the woman on the show respond to the kids on it that “They can never see him, only YOU can, kids!,” and “The best place to play after an ice cream is the cool wet waters of your local sewer!”. Yargh, really?

I must’ve been making enough of a face because he spotted me, stepping away from a group of kids. His lips parted as he smiled, blue eyes catching mine as he strutted up.

Leaning on the bar to the side of me, he eyed me up and down. “So what’s a place like you doing in a girl like this?” he asked, and I chuckled quietly.

“I’m making ice cream for my friends and I today. Was here to grab a lil’ lunch and a few of their syrups for toppings. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Me?” he pointed back to himself, “I enjoy heading through town when I can, seeing all the children. They love the balloons, and I love the ice cream.”

“And popcorn,” I muttered quietly, sipping my float. My cheeks started to burn when he caught that, smirking out of the corner of my eye.

He let out this “durr hurr” laugh that tickled me, his hand moving closer to mine on the bar.  
“I do love popcorn. Maybe we can share some, sometime?”

“I...sure!” my voice cracked. “We can try different things on it, though my favorite will always be butter and salt.” (Did I just agree to a popcorn date with HIM?!?)

“Mine too. Different toppings would be good to try.” He leaned in towards my ear, and whispered loudly enough for the lunch crowd to hear. “Though next time I want to eat some off of you.” I could feel his lips graze my ear, and my heart leapt into my throat. Looking up, I realized he was nearly leaning over me, face inches from my own. His lips glistened under the lights, tongue running over his front teeth. If I had a little version me sitting on my shoulder, calling the shots, I think she’d say “Are you really thinking about doing this right now? Are you off your nut?”

Call me crazy or a risk taker, but in the moment with him standing so close and the smell of sweet treats in the air, I had to give in. He’d already leaned in a bit, and I closed the gap, his hand running through my hair to hold the back of my neck, lips opening against mine for a kiss. He wrapped his other arm around my back, pulling us together further, and at the same time deepened the kiss. The moment gave me tingles everywhere, but my mind snapped back to where we were and what we were doing (in front of a bunch of strangers, many of them kids).

Pulling back from the kiss, Pennywise bit his lower lip and whined, pouting for more.

“That was...very nice, but some folks may not be into others kissing and canoodling in public,” I placed a hand on his chest, hoping he’d take this as being let down gently.

His eyes lowered to my hand on his chest, thumb flicking gently at an orange pom pom on his outfit, and he chuckled.

“I don’t think they’d notice. Most folks in Derry never do. In fact, we could strip naked right here and have raucous sex on this bar, and they wouldn’t bat an eye,” he grinned.

“Wait, what? That’s a little over the top, don’t you think?” I said to him, a bit put off by his suggestion in such a public place.

“Oh, come on now (y/n), haven’t you ever wanted to get away with something in public, something you would NEVER consider doing, but thought ‘hell, I’m gonna do it anyway’?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Not to someone I’d not known long, anyways. Screw the fact that we HAD screwed, in my family’s home on the kitchen floor. This was in the middle of the Scoop! What was he thinking?

My attention turned back to the show on the televisions, and the fact that the dialog was turning a bit off-color. The woman was once again leading the kids in a back and forth chant, question and answer, certain phrases said over and over again. It made my insides twist into knots, and I had to cross my legs.

Adult: “We know a special friend down in the sewers, don’t we kids?”  
Kids: “Yeah we do!”  
Adult: “It’s our clown friend! Isn’t he the best?”  
Kids: “Yes he is! He is the best!”  
Adult: “He’s feeling a bit down today though kids!”  
Kids: “Aww why?”  
Adult: “He wants to spend some ‘special time’ with someone. He may need some cheering on to gain her favor.”  
Kids: “Alright! Cool! Let’s do it!”  
Adult: “He wants to have a good time, and wants her to too!”  
Kids: “What does he want to do?”  
Adult: “Funnilingus!”  
Kids: “Ooh!”  
Adult: “That’s right! Our friend the clown wants to go downtown!”

At this point, I was purposely staring off into space, trying to ignore what I just heard (on a frigging KIDS show), my breath shuddering despite trying to look at ease. I heard that familiar chuckle again, the one that made me squeeze my thighs tighter. Sighing, I resigned myself to turn and look at him again, hoping the look on my face would shut him down.

I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have. As soon as our eyes locked, his baby blues shifted to golden yellow, lips glistening again even more, begging to be kissed. Dipping his head forward, I whimpered as he darted his tongue out, running it along my lips. I opened my mouth to take a deeper breath (or just to breathe period, as I seem to have stopped at some point), and he took my mouth with his, pulling back only to catch my lower lip with his front teeth, nibbling and leaving a trail of saliva between us as he pulled away.

Adult: “Kids I think she’s almost ready!”  
Kids: “Is she ready? What’s he going to do next?”

I could hear the kids on the show cheer enthusiastically, though every noise around us at this point sounded like it was coming from another room, muffled and distorted.

I was starting to sweat despite the air conditioning, and he noticed this when he stood up, moving in front of me at the bar.

“Your knees are a little wet,” he waggled his brows, running his ungloved hands over my kneecaps.

“It’s getting a little warm in here. It’s just sweat.”

“Are you sure about that y/n?” he asked, hands moving to uncross my legs. “You’re not wet anywhere else?”

“I uh,” I stammered, feeling my thighs shake as he brought my legs down side by side.

“You sure?” he asked again, fingers nimbly sliding up my legs and further up my sundress.

I felt paralyzed again. Frozen with fear, like the last time he pulled me in. But under that fear, heat was building. I had to pull back. Couldn’t do this...not here.

He leaned forwards, catching me in another kiss. As he pulled away, I felt my resolve crack, and tried like mad to keep myself together. 

Pennywise took the opportunity to pull me forward on the stool by my upper thighs, hiking my dress up, my backside squeaking along the leather seat. He pulled me nearly to the edge, then held for a breath, looking at me with a slow smile as he parted my legs and stood between them.

I could feel warmth climbing up my skin as he ran his long fingers up my inner thighs. His breath caught as he stared where his hands were heading, pupils glowing even brighter as he spread my legs further.

“Come y/n, let me help you lower your inhibitions,” he rasped out, his voice dropping deeper, looking back up with hunger in his eyes.  
Damnit, I wanted to cross my legs again, but he had other ideas. I gasped in shock as he took to his knees, his face lowered to stool height.

Adult: “It’s gonna happen kids! Let’s cheer him on!”  
Kids: “Go Pennywise go!”  
Adult: “Make her cum! Lick up and down her slit! Suck and nibble on her clit!”  
Kids: *unintelligible cheering*  
Adult: “Kiss her! Tease her! Make her sweat! Leave her pussy soaking wet!”

He ran the pad of a finger down the crotch of my underwear, pulling it back to take a lick and a deep inhale. His eyes rolled sideways as his front teeth bit down hard on his lower lip, holding back a growl.

“Oh yes, you’re ready,” he groaned, leaning forward to ghost his breath over my sex.

I nearly flew off the stool when he did this, but he wrapped his arms around my legs above the knee, holding me in place. He graced me with an almost pitying look, placing a light kiss to each of my upper thighs as if to say “don’t fight it, it’s going to happen anyway”.

His lips ran across a thigh to meet my underwear again, and this was the moment he seemed to savor. Looking up at me with those eyes, he had his wide smile nearly pressed against my most intimate of areas. As soon as his lips, followed by tongue ran across the lacy fabric, my body instinctively arched back, shoulder blades hitting the bar.

Taking a hand from my leg, I could hear everyone on the tv show cheer as he slipped a finger under the edge of my underwear, pulling the lacy fabric to one side to nuzzle his nose between my folds, and…

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Beverly hollered at me from my side. I was so caught off guard, realizing at that very second that I was seated facing the bar, still waiting for the syrups and holding my root beer float a little too hard. 

An audible ‘cRaCk’ was heard as I flinched, breaking the glass with my right hand. One of the servers saw what happened right away, both she and Beverly pulled the glass from my hand. Drips of blood oozed slowly from a cut stretching from palm to thumb. I blurted out an “I’m fine,” despite feeling anything but, while the server got my syrups all bagged up, along with a clean towel to wrap my hand in.

“Thought I’d meet you to see how ice cream fixings were coming along. C’mon, let’s go to the pharmacy and get some first aid stuff, and see if we can get that bleeding to stop,” Beverly noted, taking my bag for me.

As I was getting ready to head out behind her, I looked to the side towards the mirrored wall of the Scoop, and immediately felt very real touches and tingles that had me sprinting out of there. In the reflection, Pennywise was still going to town between my wide open legs, his head bobbing up and down to the continued chant of “Make her cum! Make her cum!” on the tv. Though I hadn’t noticed after leaving, drool continued to drip from the edge of the stool I sat at, pooling on the floor below. Not a soul stopped to take notice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright folkerinos, I have Chapter Three set now. I will be keeping moderated comments on, but please let me know what you think of the latest installment. Chapter Four will be coming soon, with another chapter or two to round out this story.

“Hi Beav...erm, Beverly. May I help you?” the woman behind the pharmacy counter corrected herself, her attitude barely masked behind a professional demeanor.

“Greta! Hi! So good to see you. Still working at your Dad’s pharmacy, I see,” Beverly replied in her best ‘I couldn’t give two shits’ voice and looked around, ignoring the stink eye she was getting from the woman who bullied her back in middle school. I’d heard about her, but brushed off the annoyance of her eye roll and gum snapping, keeping a close watch on my injured hand as blood oozed through the towel I had it wrapped in.

“My friend here cut her hand. It’s not too deep, but it is bleeding a bit. We’re going to buy some gauze, wrap and antibiotic ointment. I want to patch her up here in the public bathroom if that’s alright,” Beverly nodded to both of us, walking away to grab the items she mentioned.

“Do you have any WoundSeal? It’s used to stop bleeding,” I asked Greta.

“Yeah, it’s on the aisle she’s headed to, in the middle down at the bottom,” she pointed, and began ringing up the items Beverly brought back to the register.

I grabbed the WoundSeal and added to the pile. Grabbing a pair of scissors from Greta and shooing both of them away at the bathroom, I cleaned my hand, got the bleeding to stop and wrapped it snugly with gauze and wrap. As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom Beverly slipped her arm around mine, dropping off the scissors and hurrying me out of the pharmacy.

“Bev, you look pale as a ghost. You doing alright?” I asked as we speed-walked away from the downtown area.

“Did you see Mr Keene? I hear he visits the pharmacy sometimes,” I chirped, following her.

“Yeaahh,” she responded, her voice shaking, going up as she kept walking. 

“Yeahhh?” 

“It’s nothing. Let’s get back to your parent’s place so we can get lunch started, and you can get the ice cream going,” she darted ahead of me. I had to jog a bit to keep up.

“Wait! Slow down, will yah?” I hollered. “We’ll get there, but can you please stop it with the ‘Bill’s kid sister doesn’t need to know what’s going on’ bullshit and tell me what’s up?”

Beverly stopped for a moment, eyeing me warily before dropping her shoulders and taking a deep breath. She grabbed me by the arm, slowing her pace.

“You remember that guy we saw at the circus? The clown with the red hair in the silvery white getup?” she looked me in the eyes. I could tell this was getting serious.

“Yeah. I remember all of you getting tetchy when he showed up. His name’s Pennywise, right?”

“Yep. Pennywise,” she grew quiet, walking along side me. We turned into the neighborhood, stepping out of the way for a pair of kids skating along the sidewalk.

“What’s got you so spooked? You guys don’t have to shield me from the details, you know. What you tell me might keep me safe.” 

“It...he’s got a weird sort of hold over this town. I don’t know how to explain it, but he has an easy influence over people. Adults mostly.”

I thought about what happened at The Scoop, my pulse quickening as I realized absolutely no one stepped in when Pennywise had been doing what he was doing to me.

“Ben was telling me a little about what’s been going on in Derry over the years. Says Pennywise has had a hand in that. The disappearances and tragedies I mean. That true?” I asked, flexing my injured hand, prickles of numbness beginning to spread to my thumb. I’d have to loosen the wrappings when I got home.

“I think so. Listen, y/n, if you see him again...and I hope you don’t, but if you do, you won’t be able to run. Whether you’re alone or in a crowd, he will find you. Best thing to do is fight back,” she nodded, turning up the road to the Denbrough house.

“I’m supposed to go gladiator on the guy? Is that going to send him running, or spur him into attack mode?” I raised an eyebrow, turning and walking up the short driveway to my family’s house.

“He doesn’t like physical confrontation if it’s turned back on him. Runs from it if he’s threatened with injury. We’ve seen it before. It’s the only way to stay safe,” she said, opening the front door, ushering me towards the kitchen. “Look, Bill wants us to keep you as far from this as possible. We have a longstanding feud of sorts with Pennywise, and that’s why we’ve all come back.”

“You’re resolving the issue somehow,” I nodded. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Beverly huffed, putting the first aid items on the kitchen table. “C’mon, let’s get the ice cream supplies down to the cellar for you to get that started. I’ll get the guys going on cleaning and firing up the grill.”

I split off for a moment from Bev to change my clothes (clean, dry underwear and a yellow sundress that buttoned from the front), then grabbed what I could of the ice cream ingredients and headed downstairs. Beverly and Mike helped haul the rest down, both giving me a mild ribbing for overwrapping my hand, Mike calling it a catcher’s mitt. As they closed the cellar door behind me, I got to work on the first batch of ice cream.

I hadn’t made it in years, but relished the thought of a bowl of cold, vanilla ice cream (with butterscotch syrup) as I mixed together the ingredients, pouring the concoction into the freezing canister, then surrounding it with ice and rock salt. In relatively short time, I had the next mix ready (chocolate) and stood patiently, listening to the whirr of the motor and waiting for the timer on my watch to go off.

I had about two minutes left, looking up to the small windows near the ceiling when I felt a set of fingers wrap over my shoulder. I jumped, turning around to see Pennywise standing a few feet from me. He eyed the mixer, looking back up to ask me “Whatcha making?”

“I’m making vanilla ice cream at the moment. It’s an old family recipe. I’m just about ready to dump this batch into a container to freeze,” I said, just as my watch went off.

He watched me intently as I lifted the freezing canister from the outside portion of the maker, taking it to the counter where I dumped it slowly, pulling the paddle out. I scraped everything out and into a gallon sized container, dropping the maker’s pieces into the sink to wash. Before I slipped the ice cream into the freezer, I scooped out a small bit into a bowl, setting it aside.

“Here, give this a try,” I nodded, handing the bowl and a spoon to Pennywise. He gingerly took up the bowl, holding the spoon in one of his enormous hands. Taking a heaping spoonful into his mouth, he shivered as he sampled it. I giggled as I turned, hearing the bells on his collar jingle as he continued eating.

“Very good! What kind of toppings did you get?” he asked, lips and chin glistening with drips of ice cream.

“I bought chocolate, butterscotch, cherry and strawberry. The first two are more of a syrup than a sauce. Not as thick, I mean. Sometimes I add a little something extra to kick the flavor up a notch. Like a little rum to the butterscotch, or cayenne pepper to the chocolate. Adds a little heat and spice to the ice cream, if you know what I mean,” I smiled, ribbing him with my elbow.

I picked up the ice cream maker to dump and re-setup the mixer with more ice and salt, but winced when I put too much pressure on my right hand. Pennywise caught my reaction, setting the bowl of ice cream down to help me with getting the next mix set up. Once the maker was running again, I took a look at my hand, now throbbing, blood seeping through the wrap around my thumb.

“Yikes! Well, it looks like the dressing and wrap are going to need a redo. I’ve got more of both upstairs,” I noted, nodding to the kitchen. I was about to head up when he grabbed me by the wrist, raising his other hand and asking me silently to hold a moment. Reaching up to his neck, I heard a few pops as he ripped a layer from within his ruffled collar. Pulling his hand out, he came back with a single layer of wrinkled, soft silvery material around four feet in length. Motioning for my hand, I lifted it to him, and he made delicate work of removing my wrappings.

Lifting my hand to his mouth, he blew on the cut, his breath cool and tingling against my skin. I watched him quietly, my jaw dropping slowly as he reached out with his lips and tongue, licking and sucking at the remnants of blood from the cut. As he wrapped my hand (first aid style - I was impressed), he tied the ends, holding one end for a moment with his mouth. I felt momentarily dizzy watching him, his lips on my skin as they had nearly been not even an hour ago. I felt blood beginning to pool and pulse at an area below my waistline, and backed away from his grasp.

Leaning against the bar near the sink, I nodded my thanks to him, smirking when I realize he left a bell on the material, which now dangled alongside my wrist. “So, why did you come back? You did frighten me a little at The Scoop,” I shook the bell, my eyes lighting up as it jingled softly.

“Would’ve thought coming to see you again would be a given,” he said. “And..we weren’t finisheD,” he sassed back, picking up a bottle of cherry sauce.

“Oh,” I said quietly, my voice nearly drowned out by the ice cream maker. I felt warmth starting to rise on my skin again, aware of his eyes on me. Turning back to him, I waved him towards a nearly emptied bottle I’d pulled from the fridge, already opened.

“Here, try this one with the ice cream. The cherry is thick and a little tart.” I opened the bottle, pouring a generous helping over the vanilla ice cream. Pennywise took a spoonful, moaning with his mouth half open.

“That tastes wonderful!” he praised through another bite. “How does the cherry taste warmed up?” 

“It’s pretty good. I’ve had it over ice cream and a thin layer of warmed graham cracker crumbles on a cool fall evening,” I made to put the cap back on the bottle, getting a bit of sauce on my fingers. Absently sucking on my finger, I turned to see Pennywise licking out his bowl, running his tongue over the edge as he watched me. His blue eyes darkened, turning the color of a stormy sea before shimmering to golden yellow.

He lunged forward, setting aside his bowl, taking the bottle from my hand and setting it on the counter. Within a split second he had picked me up, setting me at the edge of the sink. Lifting a hand, my underwear dangled from his fingers.

“Uh,” I choked out, “how’d you move so fast?” my eyes widened. ‘I’m gonna run out of underwear.’ I thought to myself, my backside teetering on the edge of the sink.

“It’s what I do when I wanT, what I wanT...now,” he smiled darkly. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take this slow. Very slow,” his eyes widened, hands slipping over my sides, meeting at the front of my dress. “Except this,” he grinned, ripping my dress open so quickly that half the buttons popped off, bouncing across the cement floor.

At this point I was half exposed, and he slipped his hands between my knees, spreading my legs to stand between them. Grabbing the nearly empty bottle of cherry sauce, he tossed the lid aside, eyes raking over me as he dribbled a thick trail down my cleavage and stomach, letting drips fall above my mound. Placing the bottle to the side, his hands rose to my breasts, running fingers over the lace cups, sliding the material down. My breath wavered as he ran his thumbs over my nipples, pinching and circling them again and again until they throbbed, stiff and covered in gooseflesh.

He ran the pads of his fingers through the sauce between my cleavage, dragging the sticky crimson liquid across my breasts, drawing a heart across my breastbone. His fingers slid south, spreading cherry sauce across my torso and down further, inches from my cunt, still wet from our last encounter. Slipping a hand behind my back, he ushered me to lean gently towards the sink and he dipped forward, lips smacking and tongue slithering along my skin, removing all trace of cherry goodness.

I trembled and whimpered watching his mouth sample the sauce all over my torso, tensing up as he dropped to his knees before me, smiling and gleefully remarking “time to eaT”. Leaning in, he slipped his fingers between my folds, pressing his mouth to my cunt in an open mouthed kiss. I nearly fell back from this initial contact, feeling his lips suck and pull and tug at my folds, and rub at my already sensitive clit. A second hand held my sex open to him, and while I reacted to his continuing ministrations, I raised an eyebrow, realizing I had three hands on me at once. He noticed my hesitation to react at this point, another hand reaching up to tickle me at one side. I gasped, letting out an uncontrolled giggle as his fingers danced along my ribcage. Another hand sprang up, surprising me with a counter attack of tickles from the other side, ripping a giggle and a gentle scream from my lips.

Pennywise seemed to love this, laughing against my crotch, the vibration of his voice pulsing through my core. His eyes danced across my body, watching my twitches and jumps and arches with every move he made. He lick-lick-licked across my folds and bit with gentle pressure at my clit with his front teeth. The hands at my ribs wandered to my breasts, stroking, squeezing and cupping, twisting and rolling my nipples until I could barely stand it. I made to roll my hips up an inch, minutely backing away from his attention but he wouldn’t have it, burrowing his mouth against my cunt, sucking and nipping at me with enough pressure to draw blood.

At this point, my voice started rising above the motor of the ice cream machine. I felt yet another hand slide up along the front of my right shoulder, hand poised to cup my face. As I felt the beginnings of an orgasm begin to build, he eased up on his actions, earning a disapproving whine from me. The hand by my face ran long fingers across my jawline, down my neck, before pricking its thumb with a finger, drawing blood.

The hand wavered in front of my face as Pennywise took to tasting me again. Blood flowed in tiny wisps before my eyes, hypnotizing me with with its delicate dance. Edging me ever closer to oblivion, I felt his tongue at my entrance, feeling his lips suck and slurp along me as I dripped down his chin. He slipped in an inch, then shoved himself as far back as he could go, and I screamed. His bleeding thumb found its way into my mouth, silencing me as he buried his long, fleshy organ, tasting every inch of my depths. I began sucking on his thumb, metallic, burnt flavor running down my throat. A rumble vibrated from his throat to my crotch, enjoying my mouth on him. Feeling his tongue swivel and seek out a particular spot to stroke over and over, my orgasm built, muscles tensing, back arching in a rhythm that washed over me, waves crashing again and again. His hands (all six - wait eight, as two showed up mid-orgasm to hold my hips) held me through the high point, then slowly pulled back, running over my body as they disappeared into his clothing. Rising from his knees, Pennywise held me forward, placing a gentle kiss to my lips. As he slid the back of my dress from my body, slipping off my bra, I uttered “that was...holy...wow,” my voice shaky, breath heaving.

He chuckled against me, pulling back to say “Not done yeT.” I looked at him wide eyed, mouthing ‘WHAT?!?’ before he undid the front of his pantaloons, slipping his very long, hard cock into his grasp, readying it at my entrance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I hope you're still with me on this adventure. Finally, Chapter Four is up and I hope you enjoy it. (I've been dealing with some rough going's on irl for a few weeks. Got a bad case of bronchitis and my youngest pet has taken ill, and I'm not sure if she'll last through the holidays. She's a fighter though, so I do hope she survives the odds. As for my lungs, they'll recuperate, hopefully sooner rather than later. Right now they're just frigging tired.)
> 
> Tying back to the story, the awesomely talented (and very funny) artist filthygum on tumblr created an art rendering for me of a scene in Chapter Two that I absolutely love. If you get the chance, check out this link below (via my IT-centric blog, clown-in-the-well) and if you'd like to have her work a commission, please give her a shout (likes and reblogs are awesome, too).
> 
> <https://clown-in-the-well.tumblr.com/post/167642666748/filthygum-commission-done-for-the-radical>

“OH MY GOD!” I yelled under his hand, cupped gently over my mouth. He impaled me in one stroke and began growling through gritted teeth when his pelvis smashed against my core, buried as far as he could go. He picked me up by my ass he took a few steps, backing me up against the door to the freezer. Pressing me against the cold stainless steel, he pulled out almost completely, slamming back in a heartbeat later. The action was so forceful, it tipped the freezer onto its back feet, the front raising an inch before it landed down on the concrete with a thundering WHUMP.

“Penny, too LOUD!” I screeched into his ear, worried we would be discovered. Turning his head to me he nodded in understanding, running his lips over mine, wriggling the tip of his tongue along my mouth until I opened and began licking at his dripping cherry-tainted saliva. He lessened his thrusts, making smaller bucking movements with his hips. The freezer still moved, making minute squeaking sounds as it edged over the floor towards the wall.

I was dimly aware of the music and the my brother laughing with his friends just outside, the sounds mingling with repeated grunts and groans and the sloppy schlicking sounds of Pennywise’s cock sliding in and out of me.

“F-feel s-s-sOOO good,” he stuttered against my mouth, breathing heavily as his speed increased. One of his hands slid to my lower back while the other gripped the top of the freezer. My hands carded through his hair, one sliding down to his collar and gripping tightly as our fucking became frenzied, the rolling of our hips sending orgasmic shockwaves through our bodies. I heard metal screech behind me as he held me, his movements coming to a stop. A torrent of seed spilled into me, filling me with warmth as my core throbbed around him.

We dropped slowly to the ground, landing on our knees, my back still against the freezer. I could feel his breath against my ear, labored and wheezing as he held me in his arms. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I whispered “Penny, I think it’s done” before untangling myself from him to check on the ice cream. I caught him giving me an appreciative glance before I stooped down, pulling the drum from the ice and carrying it to the sink. Shivering as I lowered it to the sink (still naked and the drum was freezing cold), I grabbed a bowl and prepared to scoop out the chocolate ice cream.

Cool fingers wrapped over my shoulders, followed by the scant straps of my sundress. Pennywise laid a gentle kiss on my neck, slipping my dress around me. He began buttoning it back onto me (where buttons hadn’t popped off) slowly while I scooped out the ice cream. Afterwards, he unplugged and grabbed the ice cream maker, helping me dump the ice and clean out the drum. I slipped the bowl (now covered) into the freezer, catching a glimpse of the very obvious dent at the corner near the door. Turning around, I gave him a look and walked/limped over to the stairs, taking a seat about a third of the way up.

He followed me over and sat near the bottom, eyeing me curiously.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Pennywise?” I gave him a serious look. He nodded slowly, eyes glowing gold as he stared up at me.

“I’ve seen you wear gloves. Why do you take them off?”

He mulled this over for a moment before answering. “I take them off when I want to feel, get closer to the feelings of those I am touching. It’s rare, though if the feelings are overwhelming...I want to feed, get my fill.”

“From your prey, you mean,” I stated, and he nodded. “So you get sated through eating, and through the emotions you take in...via eating, and I assume touching and feeling? Am I your prey?”

“You were.”

“But I’m not anymore?” I slid down a step.

“You’re...something else,” he moved up a step.

“A lover?” I asked, breath hitching as I moved down another step.

He smiled, teeth glinting and lips parting as he moved up a step, seated sideways next to me.  
Nodding as he leaned in, he slipped a hand through my hair, whispering “lover” before parting his lips against my own. We kissed slowly, deeply while leaning sideways against the stairs.

I slid a hand over his knee and up his thigh to the front of his pantaloons, reaching around for an area I could unbutton. Finding an open flap near the seam of his crotch, my fingers slid in only to freeze in shock. I pulled back from the kiss, looking down where my hand was held by a series of finger-length tentacles. Pennywise looked down and chuckled.

“I can turn any part of me into whatever I wish. Whatever you desire,” he whispered, and the tentacles slipped from around my fingers, interlocking and turning into one gigantic, pulsating cock. 

“That’s...a neat trick,” I said nervously, biting my lip when I felt his veins throb under the pads of my fingers. I gripped his shaft lightly, stroking him from hilt to tip.

His eyelids fluttered shut, head leaning towards mine until our foreheads met. I rubbed the tip of my nose over his, pressing our lips together as I massaged and twisted my hold around him. Whining against my mouth, his lips opened as he slipped a hand through an unbuttoned section of my dress, fingers finding my thighs and sliding between them, tips teasing my folds. A thumb and finger slipped between them and began rubbing my clit, rhythmically circling and pinching until I too began whining against his mouth, reciprocating his actions by increasing my stimulation on him. My grip tightened on his shaft, thumb running along the seam just under his head, and his middle finger slipped into my dripping core, pumping in and out, using a claw to stroke and tickle everything he could. Our ministrations kept going until he pulled me to him, slipping his finger from me, teasing my entrance with the tip of his dripping member. Sliding it in and out of me an inch at a time nearly drove me mad with desire, tingling pressure building at the very start. He kept the pace agonizingly slow the entire time, kissing my lips, reaching to stroke my breasts and tease my nipples as the crest towards our orgasms grew. When it did hit it crashed over us in unison, powerfully in mind numbing spasms. Holding onto one another we rode out the moment in silence, heads pressed together, lips reaching out again and again for kiss after kiss.

After a few minutes of relative quiet, he pulled me up and we took to tidying one another’s outfits. He made me laugh by brandishing a handful of buttons that had popped off of my dress. Taking my hand in his, we stepped to the bottom of the stairs.

“Why me? I’m not complaining at all, but why take me as your..” my eyes dropped, face flushing under his heated gaze.

“I’ve been alive a long time, Y/N. Seen so much, especially in this town,” his eyes glazed over as he stared off, making me feel very young and naive in that moment. “The good and the very bad of your kind. Seen fear, humor, sadness, hate, jealousy...love. I had never been able to grasp love, desire, longing. But...now,” he looked to me and his breath hitched. His pause spoke volumes and without continuing, he squeezed my hand gently, pulling away towards the back corner of the basement.

As he started to blend himself into the shadows, I spoke out after him. “I am, you know.”

He held a moment, a brow raised in question. “What?”

“Yours,” I whispered, looking down as he disappeared. I could’ve sworn I felt him smile, all the way to wherever he was headed next.

**** Ten minutes later ****

Eddie and Richie took to bolting down the stairs in the basement, aiming for the ice cream and syrups. Eddie grabbed the various bottles on the counter, slipping them back into a bag, while Richie opened the door to the freezer, piling the bowls of chocolate and vanilla ice cream on top of one another. As he closed the door, he grimaced at the squeal the top hinge made as it shut.

“Jeezus Bill. This freezer’s seen better days. The top corner looks like it’s been pinched off by Godzilla’s asshole or something,” Richie hollered as he followed Eddie back up.

“C’mon, pick up the pace Richie Rich! Sometime this century before the ice cream melts, will yah?!?” Eddie yelled on the way up.

Stopping and looking back down again to the freezer door, Richie continued with his exasperating sense of humor.  
“Do your parents spend a lot of time down in the basement, Bill?”

“I have no idea. Why?” Bill asked as he readied bowls and spoons in the kitchen for dessert.

“There’s an ass print on the freezer door. An ASS PRINT! They’re up to something! Gizznastics, I tell you!” Richie hollered, closing the basement door behind him.

“I did NOT need to know that!” Bill hollered back.

**Author's Note:**

> If this is well received, I'm considering more chapters. Let me know if you like it? If you don't like it, well, that's okay too. (IT is not for everyone, I absolutely understand that. You do you.)


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